


Now Or Never

by words_my_voice (dumbledores_army_reject)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 19:51:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1577435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumbledores_army_reject/pseuds/words_my_voice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've waited so long, but maybe, finally, they have a chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now Or Never

The call came just as people had started to pack up to go home. At the first ring, everyone in the office freezes.

Roy Mustang reaches out and answers on the second ring. “Hello?” He listens for a minute, then says “Yes, sir,” and hangs up.

“You all can go,” he says, standing and adjusting his coat while waving to the men already halfway out the door. When he notices that Riza Hawkeye’s stiff posture hasn’t moved, he levels his gaze at her.

She stares right back at him, unfazed. “Sir?”

He sighs. “The higher-ups would like to have a word with me. I don’t know how long it’ll take. You go home too, Lieutenant,” he adds sternly, but not unkindly. She nods as he heads out the door.

* * *

 

Three hours later, and Roy hasn’t returned to the office, so Riza finally walks home alone in the quiet streets. She’s only slightly surprised when she finally finds him sitting on the front step of her building.

He raises his head when she nears him. He looks stiff. He’s obviously been sitting there for a while.

“I thought I told you to go home?” he quips.

“I wanted to wait for you sir,” she replies seriously.

He gives a chuckle, shaking his head. “Of course.”

Neither one say anything until Riza finally works up the courage to ask. “Well sir?”

His face is blank of all emotion as he pulls out a folded piece of paper and holds it out to her. She takes it and scans the neatly typed page, trying to take in the words. They seem unreal.

_Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, is hereby named the successor to the Fuhrer of Amestris. On such occasion that the Fuhrer is unable to continue his duties or steps down, he will assume the title and all responsibilities of his offices and …_

As Riza read, Roy watches her quietly.

“No one knows yet. It’ll be announced tomorrow,” he says softly. “Then it’ll take about a month for all the details to be finalized and who knows when Grumman will step down. It may be a few months from now, it may be a few years. But it’ll happen.”

Riza finally looks up to meet his eyes. “Congratulations sir,” she says, more evenly than she feels. “You did it.”

“We did it,” he corrects her.

Minutes tick past as they stare into each other’s eyes, unsure of how to progress. Finally, because he looks so cold and uncomfortable, Riza asks, “Would you like to come up for a minute?” and he nods.

The atmosphere is just as awkward in her tiny kitchen. They’ve never been in this situation before, never even been able to think about it. They’re alone, no military, no pretext. They’ve achieved their goal, at least for now. There’s no danger. They’ve redeemed themselves somewhat. This is what they’ve worked so hard for.

Yet suddenly habit is proving a hard thing to break. Contrary to the rumor mill, they’ve never really touched. An accidental brush of fingers here or there while handing off paperwork is the only contact they’ve ever had, save if one of them is greatly injured. They’ve always been “Sir” and “Lieutenant” and, before that, “Mr. Mustang” and “Miss Hawkeye”.

It’s not that they haven’t wanted more. They’re both just as painfully aware of their feelings as everyone else around them. But they can’t. It would have jeopardized everything they worked so hard for. Each is the other’s weakness, as, unfortunately, enemies have noticed, and they can’t afford to make the other weaker. They don’t touch because they’re afraid—no, they know— that if they ever did, they wouldn’t be able to stop. They’d lose the thin veil of control they cling to.

The unspoken question “What now?” that hangs in the kitchen is almost palpable. No one knows Roy is in her apartment, no evil group is trying to gain power over them, and in a few hours he’ll be named the next ruler of the country. There’s finally nothing to stop them. The ultimate “now or never” moment.

But the moment is passing, and the answer seems to be never. Neither can think of what to say, how to bridge the gap, and Riza finally settles for a feeble, “Would you like a cup of tea, sir?”

He starts. “No. No, thank you,” he shakes his head. “I should go.”

She nods, imperceptibly biting her lip as she holds the door open for him to leave. He thanks her. _For what?_ she wonders. She didn’t do anything.

Then, halfway out the door, he’s turning and suddenly his hands are cupping her face, and she shuts the door as she stares into his dark eyes because now the rules have been broken and he’s not going anywhere tonight.

“I… I—” he whispers in a broken voice. Perhaps it’s a mark of how badly they’ve been broken by life that, even now, he can’t get the words out.

“I know,” she murmurs back, brushing his unruly bangs out of his eyes as he leans his face closer and their foreheads touch.

Then his mouth is on hers and her fingers are tangled in his hair, and the fire they’ve feared and tried to control for so long is finally burning through them. His hands move from her cheeks to her neck to pull her closer, and she can feel them trembling as she wraps her own arms around his strong shoulders.

The kiss deeps, and when Roy pulls away slightly, Riza can’t help but let out a small noise of protest. His chuckle reverberates though both of them, and she realizes he’s only let to fumble with the buttons of her think, scratchy military coat that is restricting their closeness. She breaks the kiss and lets go of him to help, sliding the as thick cloth off as he turns to his own.

The two coats sink to the floor at the same time, and their owners pause, breathing hard, him in his white collared dress shirt, slightly crumpled from being under the his uniform all day, and her in her tight black turtleneck. Slowly, gently, they pull each other tight in an embrace. No kissing, for a moment this is enough. The feel of their skin pressed close, her breath on his shoulder, his arms tight around her waist. Under the soft cloth of his shirt, Riza can feel the bumpy, raised burn, and her fingers trace it. Knowing what’s going though her mind, Roy turns his face towards her.   His lips touch her neck softly, moving achingly slowly up to the faint scar that runs across it as she gasps.

They pull back again, dark eyes staring into lighter ones. Even though they both know what they want, they’re still checking, making sure, and weighing the danger, because that’s what they do. That’s how they’ve survived.

Then she steps forward, places a light kiss on his lips, and tugs his hand with her, down the hall. He smiles and goes with her.

They’re work is not over. Tomorrow there will be even more to do, and the day after that, and the day after that, on into eternity. But tonight, they’re just two ordinary people, in love. For once letting themselves be free.   And so they walk down the hall, neither one leading the other, but moving as they always do through life: togeth


End file.
